Jean Weso is a child of the sixties. He was born after an encounter between a Swedish woman and a Danish man. He grew up in Copenhagen and Paris with his identical twin brother Christian. After many years working as an editor and journalist, he has turned to crime almost full time. Since 2009 he has lived in amazing Amsterdam with his Capetonian wife Ingrid, who happens to have an identical twin sister.

An extract from The Lure of Amsterdam

“Fine, but I’m not getting out before you’ve scrubbed my back,” she said. “You promised.”

I was sure I had done no such thing, but subconsciously, I was hoping she would suggest it. Her right arm appeared from under the water, and her hand held a sponge. I drained my whiskey glass and put it on the sink. I took the sponge, and she sat up to make room for me. I took a seat behind her on the edge of the tub. I dipped the sponge in the water and caressed her back with it.

“Do it properly!” she protested.

I scrubbed a little harder.

“That’s better,” she said.

As I hovered over her, I had a clear view of her firm breasts and erect nipples. They were on the small side (if you like bosomy women). For a back door man, they seemed perfect. 

“Whoops,” I said.

“What’s the matter?”

“I got my sleeve soaked.”

“Why don’t you take your shirt off? It’s hardly fair that I’m naked and you’re completely dressed.”

“If you insist,” I said, trying not to sound too eager. I stood up, tossed the sponge into the tub, and removed my tie and shirt. I could see Lure admiring my hairy chest (or maybe it was the tattoo of the Greek hero Ajax on my left shoulder).

“Why don’t you join me in the bathtub?” She put a hand on my crotch. “I think your friend could use an airing.”

“Probably a cold wash would be better,” I said slightly embarrassed.

“If you jump in, I’m sure we can find a satisfying solution to the swelling.”

By that point, I didn’t need any more encouragement. Under her watchful eye, I removed my trousers, boxer shorts, and socks. Facing her, I lowered myself into the hot soapy water, leaned back, and put my legs on her hips. My erection surfaced like a periscope.

Maybe you can guess what happens next – maybe not – anyhow, you’ll have to get The Lure of Amsterdam to find out.